


The Way We Live

by Loch



Series: Save Your Eulogies [4]
Category: In the Flesh (TV), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, Multi, PDS sufferer AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-18 21:32:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2362799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loch/pseuds/Loch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So we've had a Montparnasse-centric chapter, and now we have the amis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jehan

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that my Jehan is non-binary, so the gender-neutral pronoun 'they/their' has been used for them. It is not used as a plural in this case!

If Enjolras refused to cover his PDS symptoms, Jehan made them more obvious. 

At the beginning, when they were all still so unsure about what they were, they had just gone without the cover up and the contacts, but they'd also huddled away inside, lucky that the news of their death hadn't got to their landlady before they had gotten back. 

When they'd adjusted to their new life -it was surprisingly similar, but at the same time very alien- they'd stared at themselves in the bathroom mirror until they didn't flinch away from the grey veins and the so-changed eyes. But when they had, they put in the mostly brightly coloured contacts they could find, painted their cheeks with purples and red, turning what the rest of humanity saw as monstrous and made it fantastical instead.

Once Grantaire had gotten used to the clammy-cold of their skin, he helped with painting colours over spots that Jehan couldn't reach, outlined the veins with a delicate hand, covered over the torn-scar side of Feuilly's face so as to not scare the children he volunteered to help when he didn't have time.


	2. Feuilly

Feuilly didn't want to think that being dead was easier than being alive, but in reality, when you could pass as one of the living, it was.

You didn't have to eat or drink, couldn't, though sometimes the kids he helped would try to give him gifts in the form of cookies and cakes. He would smile, and accept half, insisting on sharing. Then he would excuse himself to the bathroom and cough up black blood until his body stopped rejecting. 

You didn't get cold, either, or too hot.

He thought it was important that the children grew up with PDS sufferers as people, not news stories. But at the same time, he knew that his face wasn't exactly a pretty picture. The gunfire had caught him in the head and the chest, and there was only so much reconstruction that the PDS Clinic were willing or able to do. He wasn't so obviously dead now, at least, his face only dragging out a little at the corner of his features, even if the skin itself looked like a mess of silver thread.


	3. Bahorel

Bahoral didn't really seem bothered with xer new state of being. If anything, xe continued on in exactly the same way as xe had before, but perhaps a little more boisterously. 

It helped that even before xer skin had greyed and eyes had filmed people had crossed the road to avoid xer. Standing at around six foot six and heavily built, often with a few inches added in a bright red mohawk, xe cut an imposing figure even before the spiked leather jackets and combat boots.

Xe did wonder, occasionally, if being one of the risen was so easy because he'd gone down with a group. They'd all adjusted to not feeling, not eating, not drinking, together. Feuilly and xer landlords hadn't even noticed them missing, so had held on to their lease for them as they didn't realise something was wrong. It had been very, very odd to throw out all of their rotten food, and to give the rest away, including ferreting out whatever drinks they had not-so-secretly stashed around the place. 

They had debated giving it all to R and Joly, and indeed some of the foodstuff they did, but they decided that the alcohol was better served elsewhere. 

It also took time to get used to not even noticing what should be the sting of a punch.


End file.
